


Ancient and Most Noble

by theandrogynousdragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animagus Regulus Black, Babies all of them, Canon Rewrite, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Needs Therapy, F/M, Family Fluff, First Time Parenting, Flashbacks, Good Regulus Black, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Implied Suicide Attempt, Indian Harry Potter, Inferi (Harry Potter), Kidnapping, Kinda, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Magical Prosthetic, Multi, Orion Black's A+ Parenting, POC Grangers, Panic Attacks, Parenthood, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthetics, Red-Haired Harry Potter, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black is a Mess, Regulus has anxiety, So much anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, Werewolf Remus Lupin, also yes i am shipping Reg with Hermione's parents what of it, and hugs, god they were all so YOUNG, it works out well though don't worry, mild amnesia due to traumatic experiences, more or less anyway, never fear, regulus is not in a good place mentally at the beginning, so many hugs, the inherent chaos of a teenager trying to parent a toddler, they will be getting the hugs, tweaking canon timeline a bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27324343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theandrogynousdragon/pseuds/theandrogynousdragon
Summary: Regulus Black survives the lake. Regulus Black, it can be argued, commits child theft within an hour of his not-death. Regulus Black doesn't think it counts as kidnapping if the child in question was left on someone's front step like an unwanted parcel.The Boy Who Lived becomes The Boy Who Vanished.(The Boy Who Lived grows up loved, fiercely, and this makes all the difference.)
Relationships: Regulus Black & Harry Potter, Regulus Black & Remus Lupin, Regulus Black/Jean Granger/Daniel Granger
Comments: 54
Kudos: 373
Collections: Harry Potter





	1. Chapter 1

A boy crawls out of a lake. A boy crawls out of a lake, and the important thing is this: when Petunia Dursley opens her door in the morning, there is nothing on her steps at all.

* * *

Regulus Black is nineteen years old. He made his peace with death a long time ago. He walks into the cave expecting, almost welcoming, his own death. (It doesn't play out like that.) The Inferi grab at his left arm, _tearing clawing breaking_ , and then they leave him alone. Regulus Black crawls out of the lake short three-fourths of his left arm, teeth chattering with more than just cold. (He mumbles a quick _Incendio_ , remaining hand shaking, and sobs because it _hurts_ but not as much as Mother's _Crucio_.) He staggers to his feet and manages to Apparate without losing any more limbs.

* * *

He doesn't recognize the neighborhood he ends up in, but that is one of the dangers of Apparating without a clear destination in mind.

* * *

There's a baby on the nearest house's porch. What heartless bastard leaves an _infant_ outside at night? In _November_? 

* * *

He scoops the child up carefully, gently, and slips into the shadows. A cat with square markings around its eyes watches from the end of the street and approves of this change.

* * *

It's been a week and Tiny Potter _won't stop crying_. Regulus has barely slept because angry small child plus horrific nightmares of drowning equals chronic insomnia, apparently. Tiny Potter pauses his howling to take a big, shuddering breath and Regulus almost feels like crying himself. He's just so damn _tired_ , goddess _why_. A knock sounds at the door of their little Hampstead flat and Regulus startles badly, tripping and smacking into the wall with his left shoulder. He bites his lip hard enough to bleed, blinking tears away as he walks over to the door. He eases the door open, fumbling a little and sees a pretty girl around his own age, with freckles splashed across her brown face, smile at him. “Hello,” the girl says. “I'm Jean Granger!”

“Uh,” Regulus replies, feeling particularly stupid. “Regulus Black.”

“Sorry to bother you, but I just, well, I heard your son crying, and well, I have a daughter, so I was wondering if you might need help?”

Regulus blinks at her like she's gone mental. (Maybe she is? How is he supposed to know? He's never been around Muggles before. Maybe they just walk up to absolute strangers and offer to help with child-rearing as a regular occurrence? Oh, Circe, maybe it's one of those cultural things? Do Muggles _do_ communal child-raising? That's a thing, right?) “I... sure?”

“Okay! Can I come in?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yes.” He moves back to let her in and tries not to bristle when she catches sight of his empty sleeve. (He is _coping_. It's _fine_ , really it is. People can stare all they fucking _want_. He doesn't _care_.)

Jean goes right up to Harry, who peers at her suspiciously, his tufts of red hair dark with sweat. She carefully prods his little mouth open before running a washcloth under cold water from the sink and handing it to Harry, who immediately puts it in his mouth and sucks on it, _blessedly silent_.

* * *

Regulus Arcturus, of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, bursts into tears. Jean Granger folds him into a hug, murmuring soothing words he doesn't hear, dragging her hands through his hair.

* * *

He tells Jean and her husband Daniel about magic. He _shouldn't_ , he knows that, but he needs to talk about what happened to _someone_. And, well, Harry is obviously magical, and the thought of Obliviating these people—people who genuinely _care_ about him, even after he's told them everything—fills him with a sick sense of terror.

* * *

Regulus scratches runes into the doorjambs of both his and the Granger's flats, into the windowsills and the thresholds. Protection, concealment, safety, in every variation he can think of. No one will harm his people while Regulus Black breathes.

* * *

...He is beginning to think he might have attachment issues. Just a bit. It's fine. Nothing to worry about, really. (There is a reason his Animagus form is a wyvern, after all.)

* * *

He wakes up shaking, feeling sick, phantom hands grabbing at his skin, water filling his mouth, and blinks at little Hermione, the Granger's two year old, standing _in his bedroom_. “Hi?” he rasps, half-convinced he's still dreaming.

“Hi Misser B'ack,” the toddler says, climbing up into his bed and sitting on his chest, one of her braids smacking him in the face. “You have a bad d'eam?”

“Um, yeah. I'm alright now though.”

The girl nods, “kay. I stay wi' you so don' have bad d'eams no more.”

“Your parents'll miss you though, little star.”

“I go back when you sleepin'.”

There are silver sparks drifting around them and then he's sliding _down down down_ into a dream where everything is kind and beautiful and bright and nothing hurts at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean Granger's faceclaim is a young Angel Coulby, for those who were curious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a serious panic attack/flashback, implied past suicidal thoughts and some self-esteem issues in this chapter. Reg is... not having a good time in this one poor kid

Daniel boggles at the new prosthetic, attached to what remains of Regulus's left arm with a lot of pins and a steel bar replacing half of his collarbone. It took four months to create, piece by piece, from bits of goblin-forged bronze carefully etched with runes and treated with a touch of blood magic (the steel bar and pins were placed by a healer, as he obviously couldn't do that bit himself). Regulus is proud of the result, all told, though it could admittedly be better. Dan prods at it, a strange look on his dark face. “And you said you can _feel_ with this? Sensation, heat, all that?”

“Yes. Not perfectly, mind, and it's certainly not as finely made as something a Master Smith could do, but it's good, considering I both made it myself and that I'm bloody well _left-handed_.”

Jean and Dan are both staring at him like he's grown a second head. “What?”

“I just,” Dan shakes his head. “You don't see it, do you?”

“Don't see what?”

Jean smiles at him, a little sadly, and he feels sick, worried that he's fucked up somewhere _oh god do they hate me now? Did I do something wrong? Shit shit shit_ _ **no**_ _._ He hears someone talking but he's underwater. Underwater, oh god, he's back in that fucking lake, maybe he never got out, maybe this was all just some kind of cruel dream. _Of course_ , he thinks, laughing wildly, _of course the only place you could get anyone to love you, to care about you and not_ _ **leave**_ _, was in a_ _ **dream**_.

* * *

There is a hand on his shoulder, more voices, and Regulus Black _**screams**_ , mad as a hare and every bit his mother's son. He laughs again, crying, because _oh look, he has the family madness after all_. He doesn't want to, of course not, but he knows by now that no one gives a damn what he wants, not even himself. 

* * *

There is slime under his fingers, behind his teeth, hungry grasping hands clawing at him, sharp splintered crystal digging into his knees, into his palms, and he _screams and screams and screams_.

* * *

He had wanted—well. He'd been—so tired, and furious, and fucking terrified. Dying was a _relief_ , at that point. But the gods were not finished with him, and not inclined to mercy.

* * *

He chokes on slime and gags, shuddering. There was something—he forgot, before. It was— _oh_ , there it is. “Krea- Kreacher,” he rasps, lakewater bubbling out of his mouth. “Kreacher, please.” And the elf answers him, appearing with a loud crack.

“Master is calling Kreacher?”

Someone else's voice floats around the space but Regulus can't make it out.

“Kreacher can be doing that,” the house-elf answers the voice, sounding displeased about something. “Kreacher be coming right back, Master.” Kreacher is gone again and Regulus keens, shaking.

* * *

Kreacher returns with something in his hands and tells him to drink, and Regulus scrabbles backwards, slamming into a wall. “No!” he shrieks, flinging out his hand, “no, please, Kreacher, no! You said, you said it was gone, _you_ _said_! You _promised_ , Kreacher!” The human hand that touches his face is warm and gentle, not corpse-cold at all. He leans into it and clutches at the hand, whimpering. The person tips something into his mouth that tastes heavily of lavender and mint, and is gloriously warm besides.

* * *

The lake recedes from his vision and he is once again in the Granger's kitchen, huddled into a ball on the floor, blood in his mouth from what feels like a burst vein in his throat. _Get up_ , his mother's voice hisses. _A Black does not_ _ **cower**_ _like a snivelling fool_. He ignores it. His mother isn't here. She isn't even _alive_ anymore.

* * *

There is nothing but concern in three pairs of eyes, and Regulus is almost dizzy with the need to... _do_ something. _Deserve_ it, somehow. He has to- he _needs_ \- “I'm sorry,” he breathes, his voice wretchedly hoarse. “I'm so sorry. I, I didn't mean to.” Jean snatches him up in a tight hug, quickly joined by her husband, and that simple act breaks something in him more completely than either his mother's callousness with children or Voldemort's delight in causing pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't realize the kids weren't in this at all until after I wrote it so pretend they're at a neighbor's or something I guess?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus! Also some time skips to an established relationship bc I can't write non-tragic romance lol

The three of them sit at the tiny dinner table—Kreacher left shortly after giving Regulus a restorative potion, muttering about needing to try something else to destroy the locket—and have a very long discussion about trauma and guilt and child abuse. The bit about child abuse gives him pause, because Regulus had never really considered his childhood in that light before—it just... _was_. It happened, and he had the vague sense that what his parents were doing to him was wrong in some sense when he started school—the Potters had certainly never used the _Cruciatus_ on (their precious, _wanted_ , cherished) James. But he'd never really thought about it any further than that. Dan is incensed on his behalf. “Is there not some kind of, I dunno, a department of that ministry you told us about that checks on kids, makes sure they're being taken care of, that no one's hurting them?”

Regulus shakes his head, “the only ones who check on children are the teachers at Hogwarts, and then it's only for Muggleborn students who are being introduced to magical schooling. Everyone else is very politely left the hell alone. Doubly so for Dark-inclined sorts.”

Dan starts swearing, viciously, in Greek, muttering about how much he'd like to break the Minister for Magic's nose. If nothing else, the imagery is entertaining.

* * *

“Hang on,” Jean frowns, “your brother's in _prison_?”

“Um, yeah. S'weird, though,” _enunciate your words, Regulus Arcturus!_ his mother's voice snaps. _You are not a commoner!_ “because I always thought, out of the two of us, that I'd be the one more likely to get arrested, being a... being a _terrorist_ , and all.”

“You were a child, indoctrinated practically from birth, and under _duress_ ,” Dan says, in that infuriatingly sensible way he has. “And you got out from under it in the end.”

Regulus sighs, “I sort of... hated him, a bit. My brother. When I found out what he was in prison _for_.” He scrubs a hand down his face—it's bloody _weird_ to have both hands, when he'd just got used to doing things with only one. “I just... he _left_ , put all that effort into getting as far from our family as he could—and I don't blame him for it, but then he turns right around and, what? Causes the death of his friends, the death of a man Sirius was extremely certain to inform me was his _real_ brother? I don't understand it.”

“Some things just don't have an explanation. And people react to wars in different ways.”

Regulus laughs bitterly, “funny, that both our _reactions_ included betrayal.”

* * *

Regulus disentangles himself from his lovers and his sheets, swearing quietly, before going to answer the door, in a truly foul temper for being woken at such an ungodly hour. He amuses himself by imagining hexing whatever idiot decided to bang on his door at half six in the morning. That amusement dies a very prompt death when he flings open the door to find _Remus_ _Lupin_ on the other side of it. “What are you doing here, Werewolf McWerewolf?” is apparently the only greeting his coffee-less brain can come up with.

Lupin stares at him, before shrugging. “I could ask the same of you, really. You look like shit, by the way.”

“...Thanks.” Regulus turns and easily scoops up the running toddler that comes out of her room like she's been Summoned. “Good morning, tiny terror.”

Hermione yawns, “mor'ing, Pa.” She squints at Lupin in an exact replica of her mother trying not to admit she needs reading glasses. “Who's that?”

“This, little star, is Remus Lupin. He was one of my brother's friends from school.”

The look on Lupin's face is _extremely_ entertaining, and Regulus is petty enough to want to make that expression worse.

“I'm Hermione.”

Lupin looks like he might _faint_. “er, hello.”

“Go on back to bed, little star. It's much too early to be awake yet.”

“Pancakes?” Hermione says hopefully, and Regulus folds like a house of cards. Coffee. He wants _so_ _much_ coffee right now. He is too tired to be denying anyone anything.

“With chocolate chips, but only if you go back to _bed_ , sweetling.” Hermione giggles and skips back to her room.

Regulus jerks his chin at Lupin, “might as well come in, you know.” He turns and stalks into the kitchen to jab the appropriate buttons on the coffeemaker without checking to see if Lupin decides to follow him or not.

Lupin follows, sitting in a kitchen chair like he's afraid the damn thing's going to _eat_ him. It won't, though that particular chair might just dump him on the floor, rickety thing that it is.

Regulus glares him into silence until he's done with his first cup of coffee. “Right, so, why are you here, Lupin?”

“Harry,” is the reply, like it should be _obvious_ , like it hasn't been the better part of a _year_.

“Ten months, Lupin. I have had custody of that boy for ten _months_ , and you only show up now? The hell've you been _doing_?”

“I thought he was being taken care of by his aunt, for nine of those months, and spent the last trying to find him.”

“His aunt?”

Lupin nods, “Lily's sister. He was left with them on... on November first.”

Regulus's glare turns frosty. “He was left wi- Harry was left on their _veranda_ , Lupin! Like the, the bloody morning paper!” Lupin looks horrified, which is good. He might have gotten a nasty curse sent his way if he hadn't been. “He's fine now, of course. Didn't have anything beyond a slight chill when I found him, either. Harry's _fine_ , Lupin.”

“Right,” Lupin draws himself up a bit. “Right. Uh, Hermione, was it?”

“My daughter, though not by blood.”

“And Harry is...”

“My son. Though technically he's also my godnephew, and my third cousin once removed.”

“So you- you live here?”

“ _Obviously_.”

“It's just, well, so _Muggle_ , I'd never thought...”

“Remus John Lupin. My own _brother_ never bothered to learn what wand chose me when I was eleven. Please disabuse yourself of the notion that you know anything about me.”

Dan wanders in, drawn by the smell of coffee. “Oh, someone's right posh today. Morning, love. Who's our guest?” He drops a kiss to the top of Regulus's head, and Lupin looks like he's bloody well going to have a _stroke_.

“Uh, R- Remus Lupin, sir. I was friends with... with Regulus' older brother at school.”

“Am I going to have to shout at you?”

“N- no, sir.”

“Good.”

* * *

“You're not taking him,” Regulus says sternly, showing a hint of dragon fang to make his point stick.

Lupin looks offended by the very suggestion. “Of course not. I just,” he looks at Harry making an absolute mess of his breakfast, wistful and a little sad. “I'd like him to know me, you see?”

Regulus nods, “don't be a stranger then, Lupin.”

“Remus. Please.”

“Remus.”

* * *

“So,” Jean says, once Remus has slipped out the door. “Are we going to have to move or something?”

And Regulus _laughs_ , wild and unfettered, because he loves them, them and this little life they've built together. “No,” he gasps, “no, it's alright. Remus is... Remus, but he's fine.” 


End file.
